


Ultimate Writing Adventure

by KatHarkness_Katara



Series: Ultimate Marvel Series [2]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel
Genre: Gen, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatHarkness_Katara/pseuds/KatHarkness_Katara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool breaks the fourth wall. To be more exact, he exits via the fourth wall to ensure the other three walls have something worth acting on them. Companion piece to Ultimate Avenging Alliance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Speak of the Dev- Deadpool

**Author's Note:**

> All events depicted are fiction, depite implications to the contrary.

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter One Speak of the Dev- Deadpool**

"Hey, you! Writer girl!"

Deadpool sprinted up the crowded street, ignoring the strange looks he was getting. He skidded to a halt in front of a startled young woman sitting at a bus stop with a notebook and pen. "Writer girl."

"Me?" the girl squeaked.

"Yeah, you," Deadpool confirmed. "You're writing about that cutie Spey, aren't ya? And some Avengers?"

"Uh, yes?" the girl said hesitantly. "And you're cosplaying as Deadpool?"

"Not cosplaying, baby; the real deal," Deadpool smirked. "Merc with a Mouth, at your service."

\ _Hey, you're going too fast for her,_ / White voice said.

_-Ooh, lookey! Hyperventilating!-_ Yellow voice cooed. - _The weak shall perish!-_

\ _We want her, remember?_ /

_-If she can't cope with little ol' us, she can't do squit for us.-_

"Maybe I should explain, and see how she takes it?" Deadpool suggested alousd.

"Explanations sound good?" the girl hazarded.

"Righty then, writer girl," Deadpool said. He sat down next to her at the bus stop. "What you see as fictional happens in another dimension. When you write a story, it…creates the specific dimension, or maybe just opens up a pathway I can slip down. Whatever, I want you to write me into the story, so I can hand with Spidey."

\ _'Hang with Spidey'? Talk about bad puns._ /

_-That one's really cool!-_

"Hush, guys, I'm trying to listen to writer girl," Deadpool snarked.

The girl was breathing shakily. "Well, my meds might be giving me a weird dream again," she muttered. She raised her hand to her mouth and bit down on her finger. "Nope, not a dream. Possibly full-blown hallucinations?" Deadpool tweaked her nose. She squeaked and swatted his hand away. "So either you're deceiving me, or it's real," she concluded.

\ _Not bad deduction._ /

_-Booooringggg!-_

"Well, writer girls? Whaddya say?" Dead pool asked.

"Even if your weapons are fake, you could still strangle me no problem," she said matter-of-factly. "Stop calling me 'writer girl' and I'll play along."

"You'll write me with Spidey?" Deadpool said hopefully.

"You may like boys, he doesn't," the girl said flatly. "You can be friends."

"Come on, gimme more than that," Deadpool pleaded.

"Marvel Red Team bromance. Final offer," she said firmly.

\ _Better than no cute spider._ /

_-Two sexy butts to check out!-_

Deadpool grinned. "Deal, Missy Author."

"What? No! It's Kat. Kat Harkness. Katara if you wanna be formal."

"Gotcha, Missy Author Kat."

Kat went back to her notebook. She scribbled, chewed her pen, and scribbled a little more.

"Maguire? Garfield? 616? Ultimate?"

"What?" Kat looked up at Deadpool, who was trying to read over her shoulder.

"Which Spidey are you giving me?" he clarified.

\ _I hope not Ultimate, that place is depressing._ /

_-Maguire's a doe-eyed lovely, but Garfield? Mm-raow.-_

"Uh, Garfield, but with a more 616 starting age," Kat said.

"You're making him jailbait?" Deadpool whined. "What about DD?"

Kat chewed her pen again. "Probably from the new TV series. I'll have to check it."

"What else will you have?" Deadpool asked.

"Hmm. Marvel Cinematic Universe, so Stark'll be around. Cap, Thor, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Hulk. I'll rejig Age of Ultron a little so Pietro lives; we'll see what we can do with Agents of SHIELD. X-Men, I'll come up with something based on the movies but with changes from Days of Future Past. Might throw in some Fantastic Four from those two movies some years ago, even if we have two Chris Evanses."

\ _Decent line-up._ /

_-X-Men! We can play with Wolvie's head!-_

"Not literally, more's the pity. Not with that adamantium spine."

"What?" Kat asked.

"Hm? Oh, Yellow was talking about playing with Wolverine's head," Deadpool explained. "But we'd never get the head off."

"Oh. Ah, my bus." Kat stuffed her pen and notebook in her bag as the flagged down the bus.

"Sweet! Where are we going?"

"'We'?"

"I'm coming with you," Deadpool declared.

"Don't have time for this," Kat moaned. "Look, buy yourself a ticket and we can discuss this."

"Right." Deadpool pulled out his wallet and flicked through the currencies. "Not dollars…euros?"

"Not in Britian. Pounds Sterling." Kat tugged on the wallet and pointed out the right coins. As Deadpool fumbled with the money, Kat scanned her bus pass.

"What's your friend wearing?" the driver asked warily.

"He lost a bet, so he's got to cosplay in public for a month," Kat improvised. "Don't worry about the weapons, they're just props."

"You students," the driver grumbled.

Deadpool dumped his money in the cash box, grabbed his ticket and let Kat pull him away. "What do you mean, you're coming with me?" she hissed.

"Gotta make sure you do my story, don't I?" he pointed out.

"Yes, but you can't run around Britain with that lot." She gestured to his katanas and handguns. "It's only a matter of time before someone stops you, and the cosplay story won't hold up forever."

"We'll work something out," Deadpool dismissed. "Until then, I'll just crash at your place."

Kat moaned. "Smeggin' hell."


	2. Daily Life

Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 2 Daily Life

An alarm went off. Kat rolled out of bed, staggered across the room, and hit the snooze button. She turned back to her bed, and moaned. "So much for snooze," she muttered.

The merc had, once again, snuck into the bed. On what was now termed 'Insanity Day One', Kat had cleared a space, pulled out a sleeping bag, blanket and fluffy cushion, and made a bed for her houseguest. Every night, without fail, he waited until Kat fell asleep before joining her under the covers.

Kat grabbed some clean clothes and headed to the bathroom. There were multiple problems with the…arrangement. She was a student, and therefore had no money, and couldn't order Mexican twice a day. Deadpool was…not the best person to have around, what with the weapons, the distinctive scarring and costume, the extreme loudness, and being a fictional character. Oh, and technically letting another person live with her was a breach of the housing contract.

Deadpool accepted it after she managed to carefully explain that legal-stroke-financial troubles equalled no writing. Therefore, he was a secret houseguest, and he bought the food – and kept most, if unfortunately not all, his weapons under the bed.

Deadpool had woken up by the time Kat returned. "What we doin' today, Missy Author?" he groaned. "An' why's it seven?"

"Presentation session at nine, three lectures after lunch," Kat rattled off. "We have to get the bus at eight, because if we wait until half eight we'll not get on the bus."

"But the journey's like twenty minutes."

"The bus fills two stops up the line."

Deadpool pouted. "I'm sure I could convince some people to step off for us."

Kat glared. "No killing, no getting arrested, nothing like that, remember. And every time you act like a total smeghead, I write a painful near-death into the story."

"Oh, baby, you wound me so," Deadpool smirked.

Kat added a tally mark to her whiteboard. "That's…fifty0four. This might be hard, I'm not sure I can think of fifty-four ways to kill people painfully. At least not without being repetitive."

Deadpool whined. "It's so boring here. Well, it is. Okay, yeah, choking on my own gonads is pretty creative but…We do want her to actually write something!"

Kat shook her head and left, leaving Deadpool to argue with the voices. She stomped into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

"Morning."

Kat looked up. "Morning, Liz. How's you?"

"Not bad," the other girl said. "And you? And your little visitor?"

Liz was Kat's closest friend, and the only one who knew about her guest. Liz studied languages, and didn't write, so the two girls sometimes found it difficult to make conversation, but Kat dearly needed someone to open up to.

"He just got his fifty-fourth mark," Kat groaned. She let her hands slip into automatic, measuring out oats and milk for two bowls of porridge, setting them cooking, and making coffee. "It's been five days, and I want him gone. Is that too much to ask?"

"From what you've told me, probably." Liz's toast popped, and she smothered it in chocolate spread. "Can't you distract him? Tell him to go do something for 'research purposes'," she air-quoted, "to keep him busy for a bit?"

"Yeah? Like what?" Kat asked. "I can't just set him loose on the Middle East; it would be a bloodbath, and a right political drokk-up."

"You have got to stop inventing swearwords," Liz chuckled.

"I don't invent them, I shamelessly rip them off," Kat protested. "'Drokk' is late twenty-first, early twenty-second century."

"Uh-huh," Liz said sceptically. "You could set him loose on the Russian Mafia?"

Kat flapped a hand. "Still not one hundred percent sure that's a real thing now."

"Wait a sec," Liz stopped her. "You're absolutely certain Gerry Adams is still in charge of the IRA, but you don't believe in the Russian Mafia?"

"First, I'm only about eighty-three percent on Gerry Adams," Kat retorted. "Second, why on earth wouldn't he still head the IRA? Those lying smegheads never incriminate themselves or anything. Third, I think there's probably a Russian Mafia. I'm just not sure established they are right now. I'm about fifty-fifty on them."

"Then why not get Deadpool to check it out?" Liz suggested.

"Under what circumstances?" Kat demanded. "His life is killing, explosions, and Mexican food. I don't want him blowing up Moscow."

"You're the writer; find a story that fits," Liz shrugged. "What would Batman do?"

"Beat Deadpool bloody, drag him to the Watchtower and lock him up," Kat answered instantly.

"I meant about the Russians, but whatever," Liz replied.

"Knowledge is power," Kat mused. "The weakest man, with the right knowledge, has the strongest man singing his tune."

"Is that a quote?" Liz frowned.

"Don't think so," Kat said absently. "Thanks, Liz."

Balancing the bowls and cups, Kat returned to her room. Deadpool was lounging on the bed, flicking through her lecture notes on DNA replication. "You study a boring subject," he complained.

"It has its moments," Kat shrugged. "How would you like to get a little more…power?"


	3. Truth and Trauma

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 3 Truth and Trauma**

"Hey, Missy Author! What's your take on childhood trauma?"

Kat didn't bother looking up. "Excrement occurs."

"Huh?" Deadpool flopped down on the bed and tried to read the document Kat was typing over her shoulder. "Excrement…you mean shit happens?"

"Well, if you want the completely accurate translation from technical term to expletive, it's 'piss happens'. Urine is excreted, being the removal of toxic by-products, while faeces are egested, being the removal of useless by-products. Different concepts, but 'egested matter occurs' sounds daft." Kat looked up, and frowned, toying with a stray thought. "Maybe 'egestment'? I don't think that's a real word…"

"You really are a scientist," Deadpool grumbled. "You go into unnecessarily technical detail about shit no-one cares about."

"Believe me, it you started urinating faeces, you'd car," Kat muttered. "What do you mean, 'childhood trauma'?"

"A lot of the guys you write about suffer childhood trauma of one kind or another," Deadpool clarified. "Spidey-Pete has his guilt trip over his uncle, Matt-Devil has his inferiority complex from his child-soldier days, half the Avengers have Daddy issues. And that's not _starting_ on those Bat kids you like so much."

Kat moved her computer off her lap and hugged her knees. "When someone has a traumatic experience, their mind compensates to protect itself. When they're a kid, the compensation tends to be more extreme, and longer lasting. But if the trauma's too much for the individual, they break." She tilted her head slightly, considering. "The trauma never quite goes away. The coping mechanism is in place, and while it's not good, it's not right, not necessarily healthy, but what's done is done. Coping mechanisms are there for a reason. Breaking them down to make something more…acceptable…doesn't really work. Because you find one thought, one concept, and that keeps you going, like a rope as you dangle over a canyon, and you cling onto it, gripping it 'til your fingers bleed, because you just. Can't. Let. Go. And someone comes along and tells you it's wrong, and tries to cut the rope when you can't find anything else to keep you up. No, you've got to accept what happened, how the person coped, and move on."

Deadpool cocked his head. "Speaking from experience?" he asked, unusually perceptive.

"Childhood depression," Kat said bluntly. "Undiagnosed for ten years. By that point, I'd spen half my life compensating for poor motivation, lock of self-esteem and general melancholia. If I hadn't gone through that, I wouldn't be me, so I'm hardly going to support a unilateral call to turn the clock back, so to speak."

"Wow. Deep," Deadpool deadpanned.

Kat sat up straight and grabbed her laptop. "Excrement occurs; I just keep going. So. You were gone for ten days; what did you find out?"

"Oh, yeah!" Deadpool chirped, and Kat sighed inwardly in relief that he was letting the subject be changed. "Well, there _is_ still Russian Mafia, but there are lots of little ones now. It's fun!"

"That took you ten days?" Kat frowned. She'd thought it would be quicker…She always wrote as though it would be.

"Nah, that took one day," Deadpool corrected. "Then I spent seven days taking on contracts for 'em."

"You _what_?" Kat said, alarmed.

"Relax, Missy Author," Deadpool drawled. "I took out most of Mafia A for Mafia B, most of B for C, and so on. Until they caught on…"

"It took them a week to notice whoever hired you got wiped out," Kat repeated, sceptically. "And how many did you kill?"

"None," Deadpool pouted. "I knew you wouldn't be happy, so I stuck to wounding and framing them. More work, but fun. I mean, some may have died from their wounds…"

Kat put her head in her hands and moaned.

"Look on the bright side," Deadpool said, nudging her. "I remembered to get paid in pounds sterling. Which means tacos!"

Kat groaned again.


	4. Fireworks

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 4 Fireworks**

_Bang! Bang! Pop! Fizz! Bang!_

Deadpool looked up eagerly.

_-Sounds like a gang fight. Yesssss! Action!-_

Deadpool jumped up and started pulling his gear out from under the bed. The movement jostled his host, who looked up from her computer and removed her headphones.

"Deadpool, what are you doing?" Kat asked.

"Gunshots! Fun times!" he crowed.

\ _Most people would disagree_./

_-We're not most people.-_

"We're more awesome!" Deadpool said aloud, gleeful.

"What? Uh…gunshots?" Kat asked, completely lost.

"Can't you hear them?" Deadpool frowned.

As if on cue, there was another flurry of bangs. Kat frowned, then grinned. "It's the fifth of November."

"So?" Deadpool asked, loading his belt with guns.

"Firework Night, don't you-? No, you don't, you're Canadian." Kat sighed. "Some four hundred years ago there was an attempt to blow up the King and Parliament. He failed. We celebrate with bonfires and fireworks."

"For four hundred years?" Deadpool asked. "Dedication."

"We probably stopped during the Commonwealth," Kat mused. "Ah, one of the kings, Charles the First, son of the one who wasn't blown up actually, he fell out with Parliament, there was a civil war. I think I saw statistic once that in terms of percentage of the population killed, that was our worst war. Anyway, Charles lost, lost again, and was beheaded. We had a Commonwealth under Oliver Cromwell, the Lord Protector, for some years, can't remember how many. Cromwell died, his son took over, he was a disaster, and Charles' son, Charles the Second, came back in the Restoration of the monarchy."

Deadpool stared. "What was that?" he asked.

Kat rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment. "Sorry, I go overboard sometimes."

"That's so nerdy," Deadpool grumbled.

"I prefer geeky," Kat pouted.

Deadpool cocked his head. "Why aren't we out looking at the bonfires and fireworks?"

"It's raining, it's overcast, I'm working," Kat answered.

"You're _always_ working," Deadpool complained.

"Look, I've got five modules of study, a placement portfolio, three case studies, plus trying to sort out all the meetings I'm getting bounced to, and you came along and upped my weekly prose output for four, five thousand words," Kat griped. "If you're that upset about fireworks, the Asda down the road has a firework counter. Dunno if they'll sell 'em to you, _definitely_ won't if you go armed, but we need milk."

\ _She's…giving us permission to get fireworks as long as we buy milk?_ /

_-Rockets! Catherine Wheels! Sparklers!-_

* * *

_Bang! Bangbangbangbang! Bang!_

Kat sighed. She really didn't want to know how Deadpool got the fireworks. The answer might be something illegal.

At least he'd dropped off the milk, and had even bought some microwaveable burritos for them to try after he had his fun. He wasn't enthusiastic, but as they weren't cooked yet, they wouldn't go cold while he played with the fireworks.

Kat sighed again. She was _so tired_ , and couldn't work out why. Her studies weren't going _that_ poorly, her sleeping was decent, and with Deadpool constantly supplying Mexican, she was eating pretty well. Her meds were keeping her stable. She was just…

Tired of the complications.

She groaned. She still has to find a few more journal articles for her essay had to eat, had to sleep, but…

Kat shut her laptop and padded upstairs. She tapped a certain rhythm on a door until it opened. "Wanna build a snowman?" she asked, smirking. For some reason, she always found herself using that line. "Ah, got a minute?"

"Shall we put the kettle on?" Liz offered.


	5. Too Much and Too Little

* * *

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 5 Too Much and Too Little**

"Come on, quit your napping! You got writing to do!"

Kat moaned quietly and rolled over, her eyelids heavy as she strained to look at the Canadian merc. "Wade, please back off," she mumbled.

"Wade? We on first name terms, Missy Author?"

"Hmm?" Kat sat up, shrugging off her fleecy blanket. She knew she shouldn't have let herself nod off. "Sorry. Deadpool. What time is it?"

"Four in the afternoon. You missed lunch." He sat down where her feet had been a minute earlier. "You can call me Wade if you want. But what's with you? I thought normal people got up in the morning and went to bed at night without sleeping all day."

Kat flinched. There was one of the things she tried not to think about. "I guess I'm having a bad week," she brushed off.

"C'mon, what's wrong with your crazy little mind?" Wade demanded. "No- seriously? Just 'cause- we're the crazi _er_ one, all right?"

Kat muddled through, trying to excise the comments probably directed to Wade's boxes. "I'm stable. I'm not good," she explained. "Too many thoughts piling up in my head, no room to think, and I can't quiet it down and focus."

"I know the feeling," Wade commiserated. "You know my boxes? Like they ever shut up."

"No, it's no-" Kat huffed. "Right now, I'm thinking about five sentences ahead in this conversation. How to…explain this. What if I decide to brush it off and tell you it's nothing. Now I'm imagining you trying to force an explanation out of me." She curled in on herself. "Trying to get anything done means trying to force myself to finish a thought before I get distracted, and I get distracted by my own mind."

"And sleeping makes it all quiet down?" Deadpool suggested.

"Removing all stimuli lets me focus, but then I get drowsy and fall asleep," Kat shrugged. "Not fun trying to balance the two."

Wade frowned, tilting his head. "How about…you stare at the ceiling to think, and I poke you every time you close your eyes?"

Kat snickered. "We can try that another time. Right now, I need coffee."

* * *

"What are you watching?" Wade asked.

"Agents of SHIELD," Kat grunted. "Never got around to watching it all before. And it's tricky to incorporate characters you're not familiar with."

"How far you got?"

"The fall of SHIELD to Hydra." Kat massaged her temples. "I'm incorporating it into another of my stories, but I started writing that one, LBV, before even Iron Man 3 came out. So there's an intact SHIELD, with no apparent Hydra, Stark still has the arc reactor in his chest, no AIM or Extremis, Frigga's still alive, Loki isn't missing presumed dead, and then I _had_ to change my mind about Coulson being dead."

Wade hmmed. "Am I in that story?"

Kat frowned. "Noooo…."

"I don't care," he dismissed.

She gritted her teeth. "I do care," she retorted. "For some reason, LBV is popular enough that people keep asking me to update, and I like fulfilling my readers' requests."

"You could put me in it," Wade sulked.

Kat considered it. "I suppose…I was planning on bringing in a few more minor characters. And I did introduce Daredevil – before the TV series, I would point out – and I mentioned Moon Knight, so…you know, I could do it. It would be a minor role, although…"

Wade looked to be hanging on her every word. "Yes? Yes?"

"Gimme a sec." Kat sprang off her bed and grabbed her whiteboard and a marker pen. She scribbled for a few minutes, going over her planned plot, speculations for possible continuance, and… "Gotcha," she smirked.

"Am I in?" Wade asked eagerly.

"I can do it," Kat shrugged. "I had enough ideas that I'd never get them all in the one story, so I had a vague idea about a sequel, and if I have that in mind, there's an awful lot I can do without trying to wrap it up too quickly. So I reckon I can fit you in. If you don't mind a small role in LBV."

"And a bigger role in the sequel?" Wade squealed. "Just say I can hang out with Spidey."

Kat fixed him with a glare. "Gwen Stacy's still around," she said firmly. "I've got a few ideas for her, so don't try to replace her as Peter's bit of snog."

Wade's mouth opened and shut several times. "Bit of snog?" he said in a strangled voice.

"Okay, so it's a rather old fashioned term, but-"

"What the hell is 'snog'?!"

Kat stared at him blankly. "You know. Snogging, kissing, making out. Is it just a British thing?"

"Oh, you mean his sweetheart!" Wade enthused.

"Yeah, that's it."

"His lover."

"Well, I suppose-"

"His fu-"

"WADE!" Kat took her glasses off and polished them to avoid looking at the smirking merc. "Keep that up, and I won't write you in."

"But you promised," he whined.

"I promised you a major role in UAA, but I can still marginalize you in that one too," Kat threatened.

"You wouldn't," Wade gasped.

"Don't make me get creative with torture methods."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Bird's Vengeance is a Batman/Avengers crossover fic. It's currently only up on FFnet, but I plan to cross-post it to AO3 soon.


	6. Being Weird

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 6 Being Weird**

"We should not be finding that so hilarious," Kat muttered through the hand clamped over her mouth.

"But it was," Wade smirked. "So many laughs. So much blood!"

"So many 'feelz'," Kat countered, waggling her fingers.

"If you were really concerned about the 'feelz', you wouldn't be sniggering," Wade pointed out, surprisingly rationally.

Kat frowned. "White box feeding you lines?" she asked.

"Yellow wants to know which death you liked the most," Wade said earnestly.

Kat moaned. "Okay, fine, yeah, the last one."

"With the aborted monologue? Hilarious. It so looked like-"

"Setting up for the next series, and then _Bam!_ "

"Kaboom!"

"Kick in the teeth for conventional comic tropes, I guess," Kat commented, then moaned again. "My head is so messed up."

"Huh? How d'you mean?"

"We're finishing each others' sentences," Kat pointed out.

"It must be love!" Wade exclaimed

Kat snorted. "More likely insanity. Warped and twisted."

"Ouch; you know just how to hurt a guy."

Kat looked at him. He seemed genuinely morose, but she wasn't good at telling one way or another. She sighed. "Look, there's nothing wrong with not being normal. You enjoy killing people, I enjoy studying diseased organs. You're a merc. I'm going into pathology. We're doing the best we can, but we're not normal." She grinned. "Mind you, normal is overrated."

"You like diseased organs?" Wade asked, amused.

"Are you kidding? It's fascinating." Kat felt herself start to grin. "The way the different organ systems work together, and there's so many ways for it to go wrong. It's all so varied. Even just cancer. That can mean so many different things."

"Do you…know much about skin cancer?" Wade asked hesitantly.

Kat bit her lip. "Not so much. More breast and cervical cancer, for my case studies. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay," Wade dismissed. "Why aren't you studying medicine?"

"Under-developed people skills." She grinned wolfishly. "I'd have no patience with my patients."

"Punny!"

"Overdone, but yeah." She hesitated. "May I see your face?"

Wade hesitated. While he'd been going around casually, he'd always worn his mask and gloves under street clothes, hoodie and cap. Kat had only seen flashes of his jaw while eating. "It's not…nice," he choked.

Kat nodded slowly. "I can't promise I won't be shocked. I probably won't call it pretty. But I will find your appearance interesting. Not disgusting. Not repulsive."

Wade let out a breath. "Okay," he said, and gently pulled his mask off.

Kat stared. There were so many different interpretations of Wade's appearance. Skin cancer and healing factor duking it out was a common one. His face was a mass of pale pink lesions criss-crossed with white scars. His head was barren of all hair, even eyebrows and eyelashes. His ears looked larger than they really were, and the left was slightly misshapen.

Kat reached out and ran her hand over his cheek. ""Your mask must be keeping dust out of your eyes," she murmured. "I'm guessing that without it, your eyes water a lot."

Wade pulled back. "I don't cry," he said harshly.

Kat sighed. "No eyelashes to keep the dust out, so you gotta wash your eyes out more often," she explained.

"Oh." Sure enough, Wade's eyes were starting to tear up. Kat passed him a tissue. "I, uh, didn't know that."

Kat tilted her head. "If I did something to change your appearance in the story, would it stick when you come out of it?"

"Might do?" Wade's eyes narrowed. "You gonna make me pretty?"

"Prettier. If you want me to," she shrugged.

"You think I'm ugly," Wade said glumly.

Kat sighed. "Well, yeah. Kinda. It's _fascinating_ , but…not beautiful. To me. Now. Um. Right now I keep wanting to cut bits off to see what happens, so…"

"Not funny," Wade muttered, pulling the mask back on.

"I once had a wart on my hand. I loved poking it with a pencil. I kinda wanted to cut it off and have a look inside, but I never got up the nerve."

"Experimenting on people isn't nice," Wade said, affronted.

"You have read the story you want me to insert you into, haven't you?" Kat asked warily. This…may be a problem.

"You're going to experiment on me in it, aren't you?" Wade moaned.

"Well…yes. Yes I am. It's up to you if the experiment succeeds."

"If it does, I'll be pretty."

"Theoretically."

"Still healing? Still crazy?"

"Yup superficial changes only."

"And either way, I hang with Spidey?"

Kat sighed. "Yes, you can hang with Spidey."

Wade pouted. "Still not happy with you."

"The more I see your fascinating face, the less I'll want to peel it off and play with it," Kat promised.

"Fine," Wade grumbled. "Let's go find a new Mexican joint to sample."

"Maybe…I don't think they're Mexican, more Latin American but…" Kat mused. "You ever tried Nando's?"


	7. Spies and Suits

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 7 Spies and Suits**

"So the scene with the eyes was good."

"A little drawn out, I thought," Kat commented. "If it was real, I'm pretty sure there's have been more _pop_ and less…ooze."

"That is disgusting. And you are putting me off my dinner."

Kat smirked at Liz. The two girls, plus Wade, had been to see the new James Bond film, Spectre, followed by dinner. Of course, everyone had slightly different opinions on what was significant.

"Bond clearly messed up in Mexico," Kat expounded. "He had an impractical suit that served as a good disguise, and exchanged it for an equally impractical suit that had no camouflage advantage at all. Now, if he'd exchanged it for something more like his outfit at the end, then he'd have got a manoeuvrability advantage that would have explained the outfit change. Only reason for him to go into that suit was because that's your typical suave superspy look."

"You think way too much about outfits for someone as fashion un-conscious as you claim to be," Liz accused.

"Hey, I write this stuff; I have to think about it," Kat objected. "And I'm not fashion un-conscious. I'm fashion don't-care."

"Yeah, yeah." Liz flapped a hand dismissively. She stabbed her fork into her salad slightly more aggressively than necessary. "Tell Wade your grand theory of super suits."

"You have a grand theory of super suits?" Wade asked, impressed. He took a bite out of a chicken wing. "Urgh, lemon and herb. Boring. Why did I get a chicken wing roulette?"

"To live life on the edge," Kat answered dryly. "It's not- I call it a grand theory, but it's more of a couple of logical deductions meshed together." She set down her knife and fork and took a deep breath before launching in. "Okay, so the design of a suit has to be a balance between four factors: psychological impact, technological advantage, protection, and flexibility. The individual wearing the suit affects which factor gets given the most weight. Take Superman. He's invulnerable, so he doesn't need protection. He's got enough powers that he doesn't need a technological advantage. He needs to be able to move freely, but doesn't need to kick people in the face, so the manoeuvrability factor is so-so. That means the psychological impact is the overriding factor. Bright colours, flowing cape, massive emblem on his chest; very striking. Now, Supergirl, she's got an extra factor thrown in."

"You'll like this," Liz smirked.

Wade grinned. He finished his last wing and tossed the bones on the empty plate. "Oh yeah?" he said, a challenge in his voice. He flipped the whole chicken he'd ordered as a second course into the air, and in one smooth movement drew his katana from a holster hidden beneath his hoodie, and swung it. The chicken never had a chance.

"Her mini-skirt."

Wade never had a chance to avoid the splatter of sauce as his attention was completely drawn away from his meal. "What?"

"Supergirl is a fit girl who flies around in a mini-skirt. Most hot-blooded males can't resist their eyes being drawn to her, thus distracting them." Kat shrugged. "Supergirl, Wonder Woman, Troia, Starfire, Wonder Girl, Star Girl, Zatanna, Black Canary…They all have a power back-up, so they can afford to cut the protection factor to up the psychological impact and show off a little. Whereas Batgirl, Huntress and so on don't, so they have to have the greater protection of a complete suit."

"And it's got nothing to do with the boys who buy comics liking a bit of skin," Liz countered sarcastically.

"Oh, come on, if you want something to happen for an out-of-universe reason, you need to justify it in-universe," Kat scoffed.

"Uh…" Wade asked, brandishing a chicken drumstick to get their attention. "Are we still talking about boobs?"

Kat sighed. "Alright. In terms even you can understand. If I, as the author, want something to happen in a story, I have to manoeuvre the characters into the situation where they will act in the way I want them to." Wade still looked blank. "Say I wanted to write a story about, I don't know, Black Widow dealing with naked pictures of herself on the internet." Wade perked up; Kat had chosen the right topic. "I could have her do a strip-tease in Times Square, but she'd have to be under mind-control. It would be easier to have her splashed in some corrosive substance during a battle. Then, how do we want her to react? Normal reaction would be anger and humiliation, even if she doesn't show it, but she could just brush it off, if she'd been desensitized to casual nudity during her Red Room days. In which case, we'd need to justify her comment in Winter Soldier about getting a scar, and then no more bikinis. See how it works?"

"I thought you just do what you want?" Wade asked, confused.

Kat shrugged. "Sure, but I find that approach lazy and sloppy."

"She's a fanfic snob," Liz fake-whispered.

"Hey, I once had a story where I had to have one of the main characters kidnapped and tortured to stop it from being over in less than a dozen chapters," Kat protested. "Ended up as sixty-two chapters. Plus epilogue. Just takes a bit of effort."

"But short stories-" Wade objected.

"Different rules," Kat interrupted. "Short stories can be the response to a change, but you have to make it clear what the change is."

"Like what?" Wade asked.

Kat shrugged. "Most of my crossover stories are based on the idea of 'what if these two fandoms interacted?' and do a scene from that rather than explaining how it happened. Now eat. I want dessert."

"But there was that steak roll I wanted," Wade protested.

"Get it to go after dessert," Liz suggested. "Hurry up; I love the cheesecake here."


	8. Excrement Occurs

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 8 Excrement Occurs**

"Is that Missy author?"

\ _Looks like her._ /

_-Nah. Why'd she be running away from her lab?-_

\ _Still looked like her._ /

_-Eh. Let's follow. Why not?-_

"Deadpool is on the hunt!"

Wade started humming the Jaws theme as he crossed the university campus. Since Kat had persuaded him to show a little more skin, he'd been more open to normal clothing. He still had his hood up over a baseball cap, but he wasn't wearing his mask beneath it. He'd become reasonably familiar with some of the buildings; two buildings of lecture theatres, one of science classrooms, and the Student Support Services and WellBeing Centre. The latter seemed to be where his quarry was headed.

It was Kat, bundled up in a corner, hyperventilating.

"Oh, hey?" Wade asked. "You okay?"

"Panic attack," Kat gasped, looking up, eyes streaming. "I- I couldn't- I- talk to me. Just…tell me anything. Keep talking until my life ain't here any more."

"Uh…" Wade said eloquently.

_-Mayhem! Murder! Blood! Gore!-_

\ _...Mexican food?_ /

"You know I don't really like chimichangas?" Wade attempted.

"Cable and Deadpool," Kat gasped. "Just like saying it."

"Enchiladas, that's fun," Wade continued. "Quesadillas, fajitas, all fun words. Tacos, not so sun, but they taste so good. Oh! Nachos! So so yummy!"

"Don't like the chips," Kat muttered.

"Pity. You know what we should try sometime? A fajita taco burrito. That would be awesome. We could get guacamole from Daredevil, he's always going on about avocados these days."

"Two references in thirteen episodes."

"yeah, well. Matt was really fit, wasn't he? Even if his hair was the wrong colour. He needs a dye job. You reckon someone on the internet would photoshop some pics of him to give him the lovely sandy ginger hair he ought to have?"

"Generally, asking the internet for photoshop help is unhelpful. Hilarious, but unhelpful."

"Pity. Maybe I could kidnap Charlie Cox and do his hair for him? Hey, do you think there's something between Matty and Foggy? They sure are close."

"A platonic thing. They have been together nine years."

"You really like platonic relationships, don't you? Guess it's a different dynamic to romantic. S'pose you don't have the same expectations of a platonic relationship progressing. I mean, you know what they say about the third date. Don't have a third hang-out tradition."

Kat laughed hollowly. Wade examined her carefully.

\ _She's breathing normally at least._ /

_-Looks like hell.-_

"Wanna talk about it?"

Kat took a shaky breath. "Probably best, yeah. We were given background info, investigation aims, and told to design a protocol. Work out what to do. And I just had no idea. I didn't know where to _begin_. I'm repeating the year 'cause the depression scragged it up first time, and we didn't have this lab then, but I should at least be able to work it out rather than bursting into tears, and if I can't do a lab how can I complete the module, or the year, or the course? How can I get a job? How can I, y'know, be a proper grown-up adult person?"

\ _Hyperventilating again._ /

"Sucks, Missy Author," Wade commiserated. "Kinda felt like that when I got my discharge from the army. Then the cancer, and Weapon X…" He sighed, and remembered the way Kat had phrased it once. "Excrement occurs."


	9. Christmas Time

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 9 Christmas Time**

"Why can't I come with you?" Deadpool whined.

Kat was getting very worn out, because Deadpool just didn't listen. "First, you don't have tickets. Second, I'm technically crossing international borders, and you're fully armed. Third, _I'm not putting you up in my parents' house_."

"I just want to go home for Christmas with you," Deadpool said in a small voice. It was just a little pathetic.

Kat sighed. _Drokk_ her bleeding heart making this so much harder. "I know, and if I'd already moved out of course you could come with," she reassured him. "But I'm _certain_ you understand people wanting to keep certain things out of their family life. I just…can't process the idea of you and my family."

"You'd leave me all alone?" Deadpool wheedled.

"Please don't do this to me," Kat pleaded. "I gave you that list of fanfics with lovely Christmas fluff you can slide into. Won't that help you?"

"Oh yeah!" Deadpool perked up.

"And it's Red Team Week on Tumblr at the beginning of January," Kat reminded him. "That'll be nice, won't it?"

"I hope the artists get my best side," Deadpool said dreamily.

Kat nodded. "There you go then."

" _But_..." and Kat groaned inwardly. "I'm coming with you."

Kat resisted the urge to tear her hair out. "Wade, you can't."

"No, _listen_ , Missy Author." Deadpool forced her to stop checking her bags were all packed for the fourth time, and made her sit on the bed next to him. "You had a panic attack last week. You've been a mess for days. You still think you're gonna flunk your year of studies. Today you've had a full day of classes, and you're gonna take three different trains, a ferry and a drive across half of Ireland. Seeing as you told me you're too nervous to sleep on trains, and too seasick to sleep on ferries, you'll be up for at least twenty-three hours. You could do with an escort."

Kat sagged. She didn't have the best track record for long distance travel, between missed connections, flooded lines, delays due to rough seas, and once even a snowed-under airport. And lugging multiple bags across the country was a trial in and of itself. "Three rules," she declared. "First, I'm meeting my wee brother at the port, so we'll split there. Second, you'll be incognito, so no suit and no apparent weapons. Third, you'll buy train tickets, dinner and coffee. Deal?"

Deadpool was staring at her. "Your 'wee' brother?"

She huffed. "Moved to Northern Ireland old enough to retain the English accent, young enough to pick up the vocabulary. Is this seriously the first time you've noticed?"

"Yup," Deadpool shrugged. "Do you identify as English or Irish?"

"I never identify as Irish," Kat shot down. "That implies I'm from down south – I mean, the Republic of Ireland. Generally, I identify as English in Northern Ireland, Northern Irish in England, and British when I take a moment to think about it."

"No patriotism, then, huh?" Deadpool asked.

Kat laughed. "In general, British patriotism is merely a matter of approving of the Queen. In Northern Ireland, patriotism is very messy, intensely political, and occasionally get people killed. Northern Ireland is part of the United Kingdom, and I am a citizen of the United Kingdom. The Republic of Ireland is not part of the United Kingdom, which is why I am not Irish."

"That what this says?" Deadpool asked, holding up a small burgundy booklet embossed with gold.

Kat snatched her passport back. " _Yes_ , actually," she growled.

"Doesn't say Katara Harkness," Deadpool muttered.

The girl froze. "No, it doesn't," she muttered. "Penname. Y'know."

"Oh." Deadpool mumbled. "So. Katara. Like the girl in Avatar?"

"The cartoon? Actually, no. I picked the name years ago, before I'd even heard of Avatar, let alone seen it." She picked up her iPhone and did a quick Google search, pulling up some pictures. "Here. It's an Indian punch knife. See the H-shaped grip? That's so the blade can sit above your knuckles. It's a mark of honour to kill a tiger with one."

Deadpool took the device, looking at the images. " _Gotta_ get one of these."

Kat sighed, and reclaimed her phone. "Tigers are endangered. Don't kill any."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Yes, I had fun with Red Team week. You'll find out Wade's thoughts on it next chapter.
> 
> So, there's also Jason and the Argonauts, Black and Red, and Ultimate Avenging Alliance. And more chapters coming soon.
> 
> Please comment and/or kudos.
> 
> Katara


	10. Holiday Over

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 10 Holiday Over**

"Missy Author! There you are!"

Wade scooped up the student as soon as she got through arrivals, causing her to drop her bags as she was spun around. She smiled at him. "Hey, Wade. Miss me that much?"

"I wanted to get the head of Mossad a Christmas present of dead terrorists," Wade said seriously. "Then I remembered he's Jewish, and I gave him them for Hanukah."

Kat was caught between exasperation and amusement. "And did he appreciate it?"

"Well…it was late…" Wade trailed off.

Kat shook her head. "The train leaves in fifteen minutes." She pressed the handle of her suitcase and one of her bags into his hands, and swung her backpack onto her shoulders.

Wade followed her as she moved from the ferry terminal to the train station. "Your 'wee' brother isn't here, so why couldn't I meet you in Dublin?" he asked.

"Passport checks," Kat said simply. "Would you have been allowed through?"

"Maybe?" Wade ventured.

They had reserved seats at a table, and Kat got her laptop out. "I had coursework to do, and Christmas tends to be hard for me, so I didn't get _that_ much written, and now it's Red Team Week, and I'm busy with that."

"How's that going?" Wade asked.

"Today's prompt is Dress-Up," Kat informed him. "I kinda know what I want to have happen, but I'm not sure how to present it. There's been a lot of pretty pictures, a couple of ask blogs have been getting involved as well as ask-red-team who arranged it all." Then she smirked. "There was a cute little cartoon for Angst day. You hung yourself 'cause Mexican food was outlawed."

Wade blinked at her. "How is that _cute_?"

Kat shrugged. "It was all in the way you whistled while you strung yourself up."

Wade whined.

Kat smirked, reached out and patted his cheek. "I bet you woke up and found it was all a nasty little nightmare."

Wade pouted. "Bet you did something nasty to me for Angst day, too."

Kat glared. "The following day was Date/Romantic. Any pain was short lived."

"But there was pain!"

"The previous instalment, _you_ were a pain."

Wade sulked, and Kat started typing. "How is Christmas hard for you?" he asked suddenly.

Kat finished her paragraph and paused, considering. "I'm not sure," she said at last. "I know people talk about it reminding them of people not there to celebrate it with them, and there's always the kids who think they deserve everything and don't get it, but for me…I dunno. I think it's a depression thing. Like…the knowledge that everyone else is happy magnifies how unhappy I am. It's hard to explain."

"Maybe it's just a you-thing, or a growing up thing," Wade cajoled. "Not everything's a depression thing."

Kat stared at the table between them, unseeing. "I used to play with the Christmas tree," she said softly. "There was a game – I'd have Playmobile or Lego figures climb the tree and swing on baubles. The following year, I spent most of Boxing Day behind the sofa crying because I was just so miserable." She blinked sharply, and shook her head, pushing away the contradictory remembrances. "It's just the way it is now."

For a moment, Wade considered pushing the matter, but didn't. "Get anything nice this year?" he asked instead.

The girl smirked, and reached into her handbag. "I got a rubber duck," she said. "Meet…Bat Duck."


	11. Whoops

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 11 Whoops**

"Who do we hate?"

Kat blinked. Her head whirled with possibilities, but most of them were fictional, or abstract concepts. "Mostly the IRA," she decided.

The guy in a football scarf stared at her. He looked and sounded drunk, and it was only two in the afternoon. "Watford!" he corrected forcefully. "Who do we hate?"

Football rivalries. "Nope, still the IRA," Kat replied, determined not to get drawn in.

The drunk fan made a noise and ambled away from the bus stop Kat was waiting at. "Who do we hate?" he shouted at the crowd. "The IRA! Why do we hate them? Shit!"

Kat stared. That was _not_ what she'd intended.

* * *

* * *

 

"Seriously, I should have known better," Kat fretted. "That was just really, _really_ stupid of me."

She flopped down on her bed, eyeing Wade as he lay on the floor on his stomach building a castle-type thing out of choc ice lolly sticks. He'd still been asleep when Kat slipped out and was apparently sulking at her. "Bit silly, I s'pose," Wade grunted. "Don't see how it's really stupid."

"You're not Northern Irish," Kat moaned, trying to work out how to explain it. "It's very _indiscreet_ to openly insult paramilitary organizations in front of mixed company. It's just not _done_."

"Why not?" The scars on Wade's face furrowed his brow.

"Why not insult terrorists?" Kat asked rhetorically. "A bit of it would be fear, I suppose, but there's also the fact that a lot of people lost someone to the Troubles for one reason or another. And you never know if someone's got a reason for supporting whoever you're insulting, or at least sympathizing with their causes."

"Is it still that bad?" Wade asked curiously. "I thought it was all over."

Kat stared unseeingly at the ceiling, thinking of home. "I don't think anyone knows," she said. "There's not a _lot_ of activity, but enough to be felt. It's hard to explain. There's a lot of hatred, but no-one really knows what's happening. Except for people who are making things happen."

"And is it the IRA?"

"Which one?" Kat snorted. "There's different ones who might be the same one under a different name, or it could be someone new. We don't know. I can't think how to describe the situation, because it just _is_."

Wade hmmed. "I could kill people and find out," he offered.

Kat turned to him and sighed. "The former, and possibly current, head of the IRA is a very well-known politician. His second in command is the Deputy First Minister of the Legislative Assembly. Offing them would cause chaos, reprisals, and probably spark the Troubles off again."

"If you know who they are, why aren't they in jail?" Wade asked.

"Because the only things we can prove are covered by the amnesty in the Good Friday Agreement," Kat snapped. She took a breath, and released it, forcing herself to calm down. "It's like – look, you know Star Wars?"

"Is the Pope a Catholic?"

"I prefer not to comment on anyone else's relationship with God," Kat answered automatically, then realised it was rhetorical. "Anyway. Well, the prequel trilogy-"

"Not _nearly_ as good-"

"-say you find yourself on Coruscant during the Clone Wars and decide 'hey, let's stop the Empire from forming!' And so you kill Palpatine. What happens next?"

"No Empire," Wade shrugged. "No dead Jedi. No Vader."

Kat shook her head. " _Think_ ," she insisted. "The Senate would be in complete disarray. The Jedi Order would be having fits over how a hitman got close enough to Palpatine, and if they find out about Sidious, they'll be having fits over the Sith. The Seperatists will be at a loss, and depending on the timing, might have no Dooku or Grievous either. And if the clones have a failsafe order? Could be an utter disaster."

Wade was starting dreamily into the distance. "…write it for me?" he whispered.

Kat _always_ forgot how much it hurt to smack her palm into her face.


	12. Time Skip

**Ultimate Writing Adventure Chapter 12 Time Skip**

"So, Keira Knightley as Cable," Wade said around a mouthful of quesadilla. "Think she can pull it off?"

"Keira Knightley can't pull anything off," Liz snorted.

"You're just sore she butchered your namesake," Kat smirked.

"Namesake?" Wade asked. He crammed a handful of nachos in his mouth that muffled the rest of the question.

"I'm named after Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice," Liz explained. "My parents are big Austen nuts."

"She doesn't like the film adaptation," Kat added.

"The BBC TV version gives so much more pleasure."

"Partly because it's three times longer."

Wade snickered at the gentle back and forth. "No Wolvy, I noticed," he commented brightly.

Kat shrugged. "As your fourth-wall-break so accurately noted, the filmmakers were on a budget. I bet Hugh Jackman has quite the price tag. But yeah, it would have been nice if he'd even been mentioned a bit more."

"The bit where he cut off his hand, though…" Liz shuddered.

"Was awesome," Kat smirked. Wade raised a hand, and she high-fived him enthusiastically.

"You two," Liz said, smiling fondly even as she shook her head despairingly. "You're just so

* * *

* * *

 

"That was almost two months ago. You're writing it now?"

Kat leant back in her chair as Wade rested his elbows on her shoulders. "It was your movie. It's important."

"You've been having problems writing consistently for weeks," Wade moaned. "What's up with that?"

Kat shrugged. "I don't know. I got stuck in a Star Wars binge, and I think getting some writing done on _something_ , even something unrelated, has kinda…unstuck things in my head."

"I'm just not doing it for you?" Wade pouted.

Kat smiled sadly. "Give it a bit of time and Star Wars won't, ah, 'do it' for me either. That's why I hop between stories so much."

"So what are you hopping between?" Wade asked. He sank down on Kat's bed, and she swivelled in her seat to watch him.

"Your stories, obviously," Kat started. "There's the Batman work I've had going for years; I've two arcs of that still in progress. Little Bird's Vengeance, the Batman/Avengers crossover. Ah, I now have two Star Wars fics. Second Chance is a time travel fix-it, and Runaways is a Force Awakens AU that starts maybe seventeen years before the film. Then there's a couple of others I haven't worked on for a while. Let's see…there's a Harry Potter/Avengers, a Harry Potter/Rise of the Guardians, a Harry Potter/Doctor Who, and Avengers/Star Trek, and a Disney Princesses story. I probably ought to try getting back to those…" She trailed off, and Wade scoffed.

"How do you keep track of all that?" he chortled.

"Most of the time? It's a mess. Bits and pieces everywhere. S'why I have so many crossovers."

"That's nuts."

"…Yeah. Just a bit."

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to Ultimate Avenging Alliance. It'll be a little spoiler-ish, but in a movie-trailer way. On the off-chance you're reading this sometime after initial publication, you'll want to either read all of UAA first, or go one chapter of each alternately.


End file.
